Darkened Stars
by Anndy Malfoy
Summary: Taki is the king of his mind. He rules there without shame, but when that rule is challenged, he doesn't know how to react, what to do. There's only one person who can help him through it, but Taki doesn't want the help.
1. Darkened Stars

Author's Note: This is a departure from my usual style, so I'm not sure how it turned out. It was supposed to be a one shot, but I've never been good at keeping them to single chapters. The second will be up shortly, and for all intents and purposes, Taki's in a mental institution. Enjoy.

Warning: Hints of a past Tohma/Taki relationship.

Darkened Stars

When I'm onstage, I am God.

It's a simple fact, one I'm sure every artist who's worth anything is well acquainted with. There are no names to live up to, standing in front of a crowd that's screaming for you. There is only the microphone, innocent in the stage lights. Your control over the world.

And the world is the music. It gives birth, giving voices to the fans. But most importantly, me.

This is my world. My paradise. A three ring circus that I am the master of. A puppet whose strings are tied to my fingers alone.

My oasis of perfect memories, blemished by only one thing.

A god is only as powerful as his world, much like a king's power is measured by his kingdom. My world was passionate. Fast, moving at an accelerated speed I thought I could control.

I was reckless. I made mistakes. The speed slowed, my world slowed.

My kingdom fell apart and passed to another. A mere boy! I watched in anger as he destroyed my work. All of that hard earned dedication wasted!

It wasn't to be tolerated. I began rallying my forces. I had a plan. I would take my world back, piece by piece if I had to. I refused to give up.

The speed of my world increased again, but this time, I couldn't control it. It spun out of my grasp, screeching to a halt in a flash of headlights and a smile I can never forget.

I've tried, and every time, I wake up screaming.

They want me to get help, talk to someone. Bare my soul for their greedy eyes. But I won't, and they keep asking. All I can do is sit with a cigarette between my lips, poisoning my lungs and remembering my life, as it should have been. My life as God.

There are tapping sounds coming from outside my door. Shiny black shoes hitting shiny white tiles. Oh, I know what time it is, and I know what it means for people like me. Stars fallen from grace.

Another useless interrogation.

They won't get a thing out of me.

The door opens as it always does, with the soft whispers of well oiled hinges and a rush of bright, fluorescent lighting. The taps stop, but the door doesn't close.

Something is different.

"Aizawa-san?"

No answer. Silence is good.

"You have a visitor."

The cigarette butt finds itself squished in an ashtray. I light another.

Inhale. Exhale.

A stream of perfectly dreadful smoke.

A visitor, huh? Who would come to see me? I'm just an angel with broken wings, sent to this place for condemnation.

More taps. Footsteps recede. The door stays open. Light is blocked out. A shadow covers the floor.

My visitor has come.

"Aizawa-san."

I know that voice, and I recoil from it instinctively. I know what words that voice will say, and I will beat him to it.

I am already condemned.

A laugh, high and joyful. It doesn't belong here. Not with these darkened stars. That smile is not wanted.

"Come now, Aizawa-san. I won't hurt you."

But you already have. You clipped my wings. I can't fly anymore.

"Get out."

Is that really my voice? Rough and hoarse from my constant abuse?

No. That can't be me. I have the voice of an angel, and with it, I ruled the world.

"Hostility isn't necessary, Aizawa-san. I simply wish to talk."

I must be glaring, but I can't feel the scowl. I don't feel much anymore.

The door shuts. He's inside, and I'm trapped in a room with the devil that made me this way.

"Leave me alone," I croak. "You've done enough."

The cigarette burns down. Ashes drop to the floor.

Gloved hands touch my face. The cigarette rushes to join its ashes as I'm forced to look up.

Green eyes meet mine, and this time, there is no smile on his face. Thumbs encased in soft leather brush over my cheeks.

"You haven't been eating, Taki-kun."

This is just another of their tricks. I can't let it get to me. He is one of them.

"Stay away from me." I whisper, but neither of us moves.

For all the questions they ask, they never touch. I am deprived. I long to feel skin that is not my own.

He doesn't say a word. He just sits on the couch and pulls those gloves off. One finger. Two. Three.

The gloves come to rest next to my ashtray. A shoe with carefully tied laces puts out my last, dying cigarette.

Then he does what I now wish he wouldn't. His hands - the beautiful, long fingered hands that I hate - touch my face, and all of my defenses are useless against him.

"Tohma..."

He smiles, and my eyes sting. I can't do this. Not again. Our lives have changed, and I can't be his star.

"Quiet, Taki-kun..."

This man, my enemy, pulls me close. My face is buried in his neck. I cling to his jacket, and I cry.


	2. Incredible Broken Boy

Authors Note: Yep. The second, and last chapter that wasn't supposed to be. I can never stick to one shots, so here it is. My first finished fic in years. This chapter is told by Tohma. Watch out for a prequel, to come... much later!

Darkened Stars

My poor, poor Taki-kun.

He sobbed into my neck for long minutes, leaving my skin wet and uncomfortable. But I didn't mind, holding him until is last, choking hiccups faded away. Smoothing his hair back from his face, I pressed a kiss to his forehead, staying there for several seconds.

Then he came back to himself, pushing me away from him. He stood, left the couch, but he didn't go far. There was nowhere for him to go. I watched him; the boy turned man that I had almost let myself love so many years before, and not for the first time, I wished things hadn't changed.

I don't regret what I did to him, just as I will not regret what I have to do to him now.

Protecting Eiri-kun will always be my first priority, but Taki is a close second. They are so alike, though neither of them will admit it. It makes me smile, and they will never understand why.

Before I left Taki-kun, I made sure he ate. I fed him myself when he refused, hands gloveless and vulnerable.

His doctors are happy. It is the most Taki has eaten in months, but I cannot share their joy.

That look. The one he fixed on my hands as I pulled on my gloves before departing. He sees me as his enemy, and I mourn the loss of the man he used to be.

Oh, Taki-kun, what have you done to yourself?

My driver comments on the weather as he opens my door for me. A nice day, he says.

Is it? I hadn't noticed.

The drive through Tokyo is short. All too soon, we are arriving where Taki is being kept. Where I have put him.

Even staring at the impersonal walls as I step inside does not stir my guilt. A doctor approaches me. One of Taki's. Our conversation is not long, full of useless information that I soak in like a sponge. I am all smiles and light laughter.

There is something wrong with me.

I do not want to do this. I will break him again, and there will be no pieces for me to glue back together. No Taki-kun to hold and comfort.

I am led to his room, though I know without guidance where it is. The doctor leaves, and I am left alone, only a door between me, and my incredible broken boy.

My heart is beating faster. I don't want to go in. I can't go in. I am afraid of what I'll see.

The doctor said Taki is fine, that he's doing better then he ever has, but what if it's just a cover? Taki isn't stupid, no, he never was. Reckless, but far from stupid. It wouldn't be beyond him to devise a plan to fool them. What if he wasn't all right? What if he had done something, something so unspeakable...?

My breath is caught in my throat, and I can't breathe. Thoughts are racing, and I can't even begin to catch up. I'm lost and powerless, trapped by a reality that could easily never come to be.

And then it's gone. I can breathe, my heart rate slows, and my thoughts dwindle. I am fine. Composed, calm, and ready to do what I must, for Taki.

I reach out a gloved hand, prepared for the worst, and open the door. Inside, I see Taki, sitting on the couch as before, smoking a cigarette. I can't count the number of put out cigarettes are in the ashtray, but I cannot see the bottom.

He's all right, or as well as can be expected.

On the table, in front of him, sits a blank notebook, open to the first page. A pen is on top of it, both looking as if they hadn't been moved since they had been set there.

Ah. I know what I am to do now.

I only hope he'll behave.

"Taki-kun." My smile is real, relieved that my fears had not come to pass.

"Get out." He says without feeling, and I laugh and shut the door.

He doesn't want me here, oh no. I would be delusional to think I am welcome, but he has yet to make too much of a fuss, and I know my presence is being tolerated. I can expect no less, and I find it unlikely that I'll receive any better.

Taki begins to chain smoke, and I tsk softly.

He used to have such a lovely voice, one that sold millions. He could have made it among the best, if it hadn't been for that recklessness, that foolhardy abandon of my laws. I imagine he thought himself above him.

It was a shame to prove to him how wrong he was, and I will admit, the shock and betrayal on his face as he careened backwards... It hurt, though it is of little consequence now.

He is alive, and he is glaring at me.

"I'm glad to see your cheery disposition hasn't been soured by your surroundings, Taki-kun." I chirp, taking a seat next to him.

Instead of snapping at me to stay away from him, and instead of moving away, Taki puts out the cigarettes he is nearly finished with and turns to me. His youthful face is serious, stern and commanding. My hands come up on their own, gloved fingers cupping either side of his jaw.

"Take me away from here." He orders, but I see the desperation he's trying so hard to hide. My Taki is still in there, somewhere, I'm sure.

"Of course, Taki-kun." The lie burns like bile all the way up my throat, but I smile as it passes me lips, ghosting my thumb over his mouth because I'm not allowed to kiss him.

He'll never want me that way anymore.

It would be a miracle if he wants me at all.

"Have you been behaving?"

No answer. Another cigarette is lit. The pack is almost empty, but I see evidence of more badly hidden under the pillows.

"Taki."

He looks at me, expressive eyes dead.

"How many packs, Taki?"

He shrugs, and I sigh.

I remember this game. My heart twists as I realize we'll never play this game again.

But it's time to stop playing. I ignore the rules.

"Write it down for me, Taki-kun. Please."

His gaze remains flat, but the hand that isn't holding his cigarette slowly reaches for the pen. Then it stops, and his eyes flicker.

"Taki-kun..."

"No."

Oh, God, this is what I was afraid of. That flat denial of everything.

Taki, please. I need you to do this. For me.

"How many packs." It's no longer a question. I'm telling him now, and I can see that he hates it. Hates me.

He picks up the pen, and I know how he works. He means to only write how many packs (which is a shocking number. Who brings these in for him?), but with careful prodding, easy cajoling, he writes more.

Out of respect, I don't read it, and I feather my covered fingers through his hair until the pen stops moving, the cigarette goes out, and he falls asleep against me. This is the last time I will ever hold him, his body cradled against mine. His breath tickles my neck, his hand is curled in the excess material of my jacket.

He has always looked like an angel when he sleeps. Always so beautiful.

My beautiful fallen star.

Taki, I'm so, so sorry. You won't understand, and I'll never tell you. Neither of us will be faced with this pain, I can promise you that.

I press a kiss to the corner of his sleeping mouth, lingering just long enough to remember what his lips felt like on mine, rough and demanding, soft and sweet, and everything in between.

Pulling away, I pluck the pen from his grasp and set it down on the table, next to the full ashtray. Leaving the couch, and my sleeping Taki-kun. I pick up the notebook, counting the written pages at a glance.

Over twenty. My, Taki-kun, you are the busy little bee...

Shutting it with a soft rush of papers meeting for the first time in hours, I leave the pen as the only sign that the notebook or I was here.

I leave, before I do something I will feel guilty for.

The notebook is passed to a group of anxious doctors. It's been hours since I entered the facility. No doubt they were worried.

With a charming smile and polite declination of coffee, I make my escape. It isn't until I am seated in the dark of my car, with the driver slipping into his seat that I bury my face in my hands and cry.

Oh, Taki... what have I done to you?


End file.
